


Three More Steps

by beewritesbooks



Category: Gloryhammer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Angst, The Knife of Evil, fuck the ending of terrorvortex, i accidentally made ralathor a concerned dad whoops, me and my homies hate the ending of terrorvortex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beewritesbooks/pseuds/beewritesbooks
Summary: Angus took a shaky, painful breath of smoke in. He knew what he had to do, he just needed to take one step forward, and then another, and then one last one. Three steps. He had walked further in his lifetime. Three more steps shouldn’t be so hard.-x-a.k.a. Angus really needs to think things through
Relationships: Angus McFife XIII & Ralathor (Gloryhammer)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Three More Steps

**Author's Note:**

> apparently my latest fixation is gloryhammer so i had to write a fic for them v-v
> 
> this is about the characters the band members represent, not the members themselves!!

If he wasn’t currently in horrible pain, Angus might’ve appreciated the fires of Schiehallion. It was beautiful in a weird way, watching the lava bubble and pop from its own heat. He could nearly forget the Knife of Evil still lodged in his side.

It wasn’t a lethal blow, barely lodged between two armour plates, and if it was any other dagger Angus would’ve pulled it out, thrown it away, and continued on with his day. Except, this blow was lethal in another way. If he didn’t jump in the volcano, the Knife of Evil would eventually corrupt him (just as it did this universe’s Proletius) and Zargothrax would win the war even if he lost the battle.

Hootsman and Ralathor were busy in Dunkeld, probably cleaning up the multiple bodies on the battlefield or getting drunk. Angus wouldn’t be interrupted in his self-sacrificing, thankfully.

Angus took a shaky, painful breath of smoke in. He knew what he had to do, he just needed to take one step forward, and then another, and then one last one. Three steps. He had walked further in his lifetime; walked beside Ser Proletius (the non-corrupted one), walked drunkenly home with Hoots, walked across the River Tay to Ralathor, walked towards Zargothrax. Three more steps shouldn’t be so hard.

And yet.

He had left the hammer behind, but now more than ever Angus wanted to feel its weight in his hands. He clenched his hands nervously. An hour ago he would’ve argued that ‘the Crown Prince of Fife doesn’t get _nervous,_ ’ but he was nervous.

It wasn’t easy to throw yourself into a volcano.

“Angus, what in the fuck are you doing?”

The sudden voice startled Angus out of his thoughts. He turned around and took a step back in shock to see Hoots and Ralathor standing there. Angus looked down at the Knife in his torso, then back to the God and Sub-Commander. “You saw what this thing did to Proletius, I’m not letting it happen to me too. It’d be the end of Fife for good, you know that.”

Hoots didn’t look impressed, and Ralathor even less so. “Angus step away from the volcano and listen for minute,” Ralathor said. Angus looked back towards the pit of Schiehallion. Two steps away, now. And he’d be done with it. Ralathor seemed to know his thoughts. “Angus so help me Hoots if you take another step towards that lava I’ll knock you out.”

Tears welled up in Angus’ eyes. From the heat, he told himself, but he (and Hoots and Ralathor, probably) knew the real reason. “I have to. I can’t–”

He took one more step backwards and, in a split second, saw Ralathor’s annoyed look, followed by glowing eyes, and then it was dark.

* * *

Angus came back to consciousness with a rocking motion. He blinked blearily, confused, and could’ve sworn Hoots was carrying him.

“Hey, kid’s awake,” Hoots said to someone in front of them. That was when Angus promptly decided to pass out again.

* * *

The second time Angus woke up, he was on a bed in a dark room. It took a few seconds for him to realise what had happened and why he was there. When he did, he shot up with a panic and felt for where he knew the Knife was still lodged in his side.

Except, instead of the Knife, he found only air and a sharp pain where the Knife was supposed to be sitting. He was stripped of his armour and bandages were wrapped around his torso.

“Hey, I just replaced those.” Angus looked towards the doorway and frowned in confusion when he saw Ralathor. “Lie back down, Mr. Matyr. You know that throwing yourself into a volcano isn’t very good for your health, right?”

Hoots, who knew this Ralathor was so sarcastic. “Being stabbed with the Knife of Evil isn’t exactly good for my health either,” Angus said, stubbornly not lying back down. “Speaking of–”

“I threw it in Schiehallion when I knew you weren’t about to wake up anytime soon.” Ralathor sat on the bed by Angus’ legs. “Tell me why you thought throwing yourself into a volcano was a good idea? Without telling Hootsman or I?”

“I didn’t have the time–”

“You had time. We were standing right there when you got stabbed. You didn’t have 5 seconds to say, ‘hey, I’m going to go throw myself into a volcano’?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to people who are sick?” Angus sulked.

Ralathor shrugged. “Only if they’re not idiots, like a certain Prince McFife I know.” With that, he poked Angus’ knee. Angus glared at him, but it didn’t seem to faze the warrior. “Next time you have some kind of dumb idea, at least let us know. Hoots may be a God but he’s not exactly good at finding people who aren’t asking for him.”

“I had to… I couldn’t become corrupted by it!” Saying that, Angus was abruptly reminded of the side effects of the fact that he was stabbed with the Knife. He put his hand to the place he was stabbed, panicking. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Ralathor placed a hand over Angus’ own. “Nothing. You’re safe, I stopped the effects from spreading as soon as I pulled it out.” Angus must’ve looked confused, because he continued, “I’m a wizard, you know? I’m not only good at shooting nuclear missiles at evil warlocks trying to take over Fife.”

Angus laughed. “Yeah, okay. I guess I should’ve known.” He winced as a prick of pain stabbed at his side.

“Now lie down, and go back to sleep before you end up bleeding all over the sheets. I’m not cleaning that up.” Ralathor stood up and gave Angus a look that said trouble if Angus didn’t follow instructions. Angus put his hands up in defeat and lied back on the bed.

As Ralathor left and the door closed behind him, Angus was left lying in the darkness staring up at the ceiling. He was glad he didn’t take those three steps. He’d never be able to tease Ralathor about being such a softy if he was burned in the fires of a volcano.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!


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